


eventyr

by betweenforever (asukaflying)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Reincarnation, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:24:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asukaflying/pseuds/betweenforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd already said goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eventyr

**Author's Note:**

> I went to the ocean and wrote this.  
>  _inspired by[this quote](http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_merma.html)_

"Ouch!"  
  
Sehun backs away from the glass door, rubbing his forehead. It's hard to remember, even now. Sometimes he forgets, tries to fit through spaces too small for him or walk through doors that aren't open, just because he can remember doing the same thing so many times.  
  
Old habits die hard.  
  
It took Sehun 300 years to forget _him_ and he doesn't want to spend 300 more years forgetting he has a body now. Not that he has 300 years, because bodies wear out so quickly, unlike—  
  
"No, you're not allowed to think about that anymore."  
  
"Pardon me?" The cashier at the convenience store looks up with an expression just waiting to turn insulted. Sehun shrugs, and takes the shopping bag. The automatic doors swish shut with a satisfying gust of wind.  
  
Walking back along the shore road, Sehun makes sure to stay well away from the cliffs. He can't swim and he likes it that way.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sometimes he remembers the eyes. Dark, like a sea storm, the spiralling currents that drag you by the fin and drag you deep under, where the water has almost no oxygen and you're gasping for air.  
  
Even after 300 years of being wind, Sehun still can't catch his breath sometimes, caught in a stranger's glance, or looking too long off the edge.  
  
 _You'll drown_ , he tells himself, even if he can't make himself listen.  
  
The bookstore where he works is quiet—he can leave the wide windows open and let the wind swirl through the shop, reminding him of a past where he could understand the words it was whispering, where he was a part of the whisper. First water, then wind. Sometimes Sehun wonders what he'll lose next.  
  
 _I wanted to be with you,_ he doesn't think anymore, only setting the bag down behind the counter and pulling open the book he was reading before he left for lunch. He'll never see _him_ again.  
  
"How can it be worth it?" everyone had asked, as he was dissolving into sea foam, their tears trickling into the salty wet of the ocean. Sehun couldn't explain, he still can't.  
  
The rice is a little salty today, and he takes an extra-long sip of tea to drown out the sharpness.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The bell tinkles over the door; a bright sound in the misty mid-afternoon. A cloud bank has settled over the town, and the view outside his window is a vague white dotted by the indistinct shapes of buildings he can only trust to memory.  
  
The bell keeps tinkling for a few moments after the door swings shut with a quiet thud.  
  
Sehun's eyes are caught in the storm. White against the dark.  
  
It's him.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
At first it wasn't too hard. Sehun liked being wind, liked watching over all the small people, darting about on legs so much more fragile than fins, and yet so much stronger. He would push along their little umbrellas, coax them inside before the rain. But mostly he would watch over the prince.  
  
He watched the prince marry the girl, smiling, as Sehun swallowed his sadness and set the pinwheels on the lawn spinning, happy gold and silver to sparkle in the grass.  
  
He watched tiny feet darting over the lawn, plucking flowers to sniff at with tiny wrinkled noses before sending the blossoms spinning into the air; Sehun caught each of them up with his wind-tendril fingers and lined the nests of swallows, small sweet things he delighted in. Sugar to temper the memories.  
  
He watched the white chrysanthemums on the coffin lid as it closed over the smiling prince's face, sleeping for the last time, sleeping forever. The wind was so calm that day, flags hanging limply in the air, the mist creeping out to cover the coast, as if trying to erase a present that was too bitter to swallow.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He's about Sehun's age, this time. _Last time._ Sehun shakes his bangs out of his eyes and swallows, tries to straighten his expression. He hopes he doesn't have seaweed stuck in his teeth from lunch.  
  
"Can I help you?" he asks, straightening unconsciously behind the counter.  
  
The boy shrugs, as if to say, _just browsing_ , before he disappears between the shelves.  
  
Sehun pretends that his mouth isn't dry; that his heart isn't fluttering in his chest, a swallow beating frantic wings against the cage of his ribs.  
  
He wasn't ever going to see him again.  
  
How is he here?  
  
Sehun sits behind the counter, all thoughts of finishing his late lunch completely forgotten in the sudden swirling of his stomach, a sudden May squall. He tries not to listen for the faint sound of footsteps winding between the shelves, the faint rasping of pages scraping as they turn.  
  
 _What do you like to read?_ he doesn't follow the boy to ask. Sehun sits and thinks and realizes that he didn't really know much about the prince at all.  
  
He's still lost in thought, fingers idly crumpling and uncrumpling the onigiri wrapper, the crunchy cellophane loud in the hushed stillness, memories and thoughts that can't be repressed, when there's a small polite cough. Sehun jumps up with a start, sending his stool flying backwards.  
  
There's a small laugh, but when Sehun looks up the boy is hiding his grin in his sleeve.  
  
"Can I buy this?" he asks, holding up a copy of Hans Christian Andersen's collected works.  
  
Sehun gulps and nods. He wonders, sometimes, if he whispered too many truths through windows, over the heads of sleeping children, when he was sad and trying to forget.  
  
"I've always liked this story," the boy says as he hands over his card with two hands, Sehun fumbling to touch his left arm to his right forearm as he blinks. _What am I supposed to say?_  
  
"Me too," he mumbles, the words tripping out over his teeth and getting tangled in his tongue, before he realizes how ridiculous he looks, when the boy didn't even specify which story.  
  
He can feel a flush creeping over his cheeks, and thinks back longingly to a time when he was only wind.  
  
But Minseok doesn't laugh, only grins as he takes the paper bag with the book, his thumb accidentally brushing Sehun's hand as he gulps harder and reminds his stomach that it it isn't a storm.  
  
"I'm Minseok," the boy says, pausing before leaving.  
  
"Sehun," Sehun shrugs, hiding the fact that his shoulders are trembling slightly, but Minseok notices anyway.  
  
"You're cute," Minseok says as the bell tinkles overhead and he disappears into the mist outside. "I'll see you soon!"  
  
Sehun watches as the boy—the prince— _Minseok_ , he corrects himself, fades into the white, this time not of his memory, but rather the present.  
  
Maybe there are second chances after all.  


**Author's Note:**

> also posted [here](http://betweenforever.livejournal.com/561.html) and originally posted [here](http://xiuhunation.livejournal.com/3250.html)


End file.
